


Short Drop

by barbaricyawp



Category: Captain America, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:57:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4207044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbaricyawp/pseuds/barbaricyawp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky struggle with PTSD and cell phones. Can be taken as romantic or otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Short Drop

Steve likes having a telephone that can fit in his pocket. And he really likes texting. More than he likes phone calls. He can formulate his thoughts and it feels like a telegraph without the bad news or a letter without the filler. Say what he really means without having to say it aloud. 

And he likes being able to contact Bucky to check in on him without bringing his day to a screeching halt. Incessant phone calls would bother Bucky just like incessant "Are you okay?" check ins on his health bothered Steve. Bucky trusted him to survive, Steve would do the same for him. Sort of.

So there's a lot to like about cell phones. Like emoticons. Steve likes tacking on flowers and Bucky usually sends back sarcastic American flags. But Sam insists emoticons are to be used like tongue in a kiss. Steve really doesn’t know how much tongue is appropriate in a kiss. He supposes it depends on the person.

\--

Steve: What do you want for dinner?  
Bucky: You choose.  
Steve: At grocery store now. Help me.  
Steve: Bucky?  
Bucky: Hold up. Don't know if I can make dinner.  
Steve: How about nine?  
Steve: Bucky, I can't live in the grocery store.  
Steve: Okay, fuck you too. I'm calling.

\--

Sometimes texting isn’t enough though. After fumbling through making plans for dinner, Steve finally gets frustrated enough to just call. Bucky can be infuriatingly brief and absent. It's usually because he's multitasking. Nobody keeps themselves as busy as Bucky does. Insists that bad memories wait for you in bed and you can't lie in bed long enough to let them get you.

Bucky picks up the second time Steve calls. “Sorry, service is bad.” His voice sounds staticky and distant. Steve thinks he can make out Clint in the background, but it might be Tony. Figures.

“It’s okay. Can you make dinner at nine?”

“I don’t know. I have, uh, I have therapy at, uh, seven and sometimes—“ His voice dips out and then comes back in mid-sentence. “—ask Dr. Yamagata if we can be quicker today. She's usually pretty flexible.”

“Okay,” Steve is shopping for groceries right now. He’s surveying the line of produce. “Have strawberries gotten bigger?”

Bucky’s laugh comes through, jerky and fragmented. “You baking me a pie, Rogers?”

“Yeah. I thought we’d go big tonight since I have an off day.” Bucky doesn’t answer so Steve keeps going. “I like following the videos online. It’s sort of like baking with my m—“ The phone beeps twice. Call failed.

He gets a return call before he can even try to call again.

“Sorry, Stevie. Dropped me for a second there.”

The lights in the grocery store get sharper and suddenly everyone around him is screaming. Has gravity always been so insistent? When did it get so hot and why did the oxygen get thinner?

It takes him a moment to realize he’s having a panic attack, it usually does, and when he holds onto the panic it doesn’t make anything any better. 

Dr. Banner talks about this. Knows how to get through it. Introduced him to the idea of a panic attack. Has them himself. It can be stopped with what he calls "coping mechanisms." There’s breathing. Breathing doesn’t help, but it gives Steve something tangible to do. He grips the bar of his shopping cart tighter.

_Dropped me._

Dr. Banner says not to push out the thoughts. Let them come in, examine them, let them go. Breathe in, hold it, breathe out. Bucky didn’t mean it literally. It’s a term for when the call fails. Bucky doesn’t remember much of the fall and definitely doesn’t blame Steve. Bucky is alive and he’s okay and so is Steve. Cotton fills his ears and mouth.

_You dropped me, Steve._

Bucky remembers there wasn’t any anesthesia when his arm was cut off, but he wasn’t wholly conscious the whole surgery. Bucky remembers what it felt like to freeze, remembers that at first he tried to resist it. Then he forgot to try resisting. And why didn’t Steve jump after him? Could he have made that jump? Bucky made it with only a cheap knock off of Steve’s serum. Steve made that jump from the hangar. He’s made higher jumps. He has, hasn’t he?

_You dropped me._

He has to let it go. Captain America can’t pass out in a Whole Foods. Steve gulps in some air, the illusion of a mission grounding him. Bucky is talking. Low and soothing. Sensing something in Steve even when he isn’t there. Bucky seems to sense things in Steve that Steve can't quite realize himself. That no one else can realize at all.

“Hey, hey, you know I didn’t mean it that way. It’s okay. Pick up some enormous strawberries. Do you want to come to therapy with me?”

“Yeah,” Steve shoves through his esophagus. The voice isn’t his, but it will do for now. “I’ll meet you there. Eight?”

“Seven, but might be good to give me an hour alone with her anyway.”

“Yeah.”

Awkward silence until Bucky clears his throat. “It’s going to be okay, yeah? End of the line and all that.”

“Yeah.”

“And the line includes GMO enhanced strawberries for serum enhanced vets.”

Steve does laugh and it’s his laugh. “Okay, okay. I get it. You want strawberries.”

“See you soon.”

“See you soon.” It sounds so good.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, guys. Let me know if you have any prompts? You can hit me up on my tumblr (thehappa.tumblr.com) or just leave a comment. I need help getting started.


End file.
